Heeding Dad's Advice?
by Ms. SpearBourne
Summary: "You just don't know how lucky you are." Deep down, he actually did know. Set during and after S2 ep Daddy's Boy. Part of the Grayla series.
1. Chapter 1

**This story takes place during and after the 5th episode of the second season, ****Daddy's Boy.**

Dr. Gregory House was sitting in the cafeteria of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, trying to make pleasant conversation with his parents. It was difficult; it always was, which was why he avoided prolonged interaction with them.

It wasn't his mother, Blythe. She was wonderful. Kind and gentle, she reminded him of the one woman he'd ever truly loved.

Seeming to read his son's mind, John spoke. "You know, Greg, we went to see Aileen before coming here."

Damn. The man was too honest. That insane moral compass prevented him from keeping anything to himself.

"Yeah, I figured you would." House avoided meeting his father's gaze.

"Have _you_ been to see her lately?" John asked pointedly. "After all-"

Blythe, thankfully, silenced her husband by placing a hand over his. "John, I'm sure they spend as much time together as their schedules allow. They're both always so busy. She looks well, Greg. A little tired, of course, but-"

House sighed heavily. "I know how she's doing. I've been out to see her. Whenever she wanted me there."

Whenever she wanted? Who was he kidding? He'd be there every single _day_ if he thought she would have him. When they were together, he had been happy. Blissful even.

But then he'd screwed it all up.

When they had separated, it had left both of them devastated, broken-hearted.

And, after Stacy had left him, it was to Aileen that he'd turned for comfort. Her cousin, James Wilson, was his best friend, but she was . . . . so much more than his wife. They were estranged, it was true, but nothing could sever the bond they shared.

Especially with a living, breathing reminder of the love they'd once shared.

He wished he and Aileen could be together, the way they used to be, but-

John broke him out of his reverie. "So, besides work, whatchu been up to?"

"Not much," House replied.

"You always say that. Not much."

"It's always the answer."

"Any new _babes _you want to tell me about?"

"Leave him alone, John," Blythe chided.

House was unperturbed. "Got a new motorcycle. Might've seen it out front. It's orange with a gigantic scrape."

John smirked sadly. "Is it the one in the handicap parking?"

"Yeah. Looks like crap, but it drives great."

Blythe, ever the protective mother, reminded, "You'll be careful, right?"

House nodded and smiled almost imperceptibly.

"Last I checked, you still have two legs." The colonel certainly had a way of reminding him of his shortcomings.

"Actually, three," House hoped that by joking about his cane, he might lighten the mood.

Or get his parents to leave early. Either way was good for him.

But John couldn't hold back anymore. He'd seen his son get kicked out of Johns Hopkins, make a mess of his marriage, then drive away another good woman. And now he was miserable, married to the love of his life in name only, with a four-year-old son he probably rarely saw.

"You know what your problem is, Greg?"

"Shifting gears?" House already knew what was coming.

"You just don't know how lucky you are."

Deep down, he actually _did _know. Aileen was always there for him, with open arms. There was still love there, but their history made things . . . complicated.

Father and son simply stared at each other until John rose, asking "Where's the head?" He stalked off in the direction House indicated.

To his mother, he said, " Well, good thing we got that cleared up."

"Oh," she said with a wave of her hand. "He was just trying to help."

"I don't need help."

"I know. You're perfect just the way you are." _'I just wish you'd realise you deserve to be happy,'_ she thought as they shared a smile.

* * *

Later that night, Wilson and Cameron were walking across the parking lot.

"Why does he hate seeing his parents?" she wondered aloud. "So his dad tells the truth; he can't handle that?"

"He hates being a disappointment," he explained.

Cameron was shocked by this. "He's a doctor, world famous! How disappointed can they be?"

"You know what I figure is worse than watching your son become crippled? Watching him be miserable." Wilson almost wished he could tell her why he let himself be so miserable.

* * *

In another part of the parking lot, House rode off on his motorcycle. He was pleased Aileen had called to invite him over, but he was extremely nervous about the conversation that was long overdue. By the time he reached her house in Princeton Meadows, the cool night air had helped to calm his nerves. He had gone over what he would say to her countless times over the last couple of years.

Tonight, he would finally tell her what was in his heart.

Even with the cane, he nearly sprinted to the door with the vigor of a man half his age.

He'd barely had a chance to knock when the door opened.


	2. Chapter 2

He'd barely had a chance to knock when the door opened.

It was not his petite brunette wife who was standing there to greet him, though.

In the doorway stood a green-eyed man with dirty blond hair. He stood a head shorter, he noted.

"Who the hell are you?" demanded a stunned House.

The shorter man's smile never faltered; clearly, he had been expecting House. And his demeanour. He extended a hand and introduced himself. "Williams. Michael Williams. And you must the eminent Doctor Gregory House. Aileen's told me . . . quite a bit about you."

"Really," House replied drily. "She never mentioned you to me. So! Your name's Michael Williams? Betcha get teased a lot for having the same name as that singer who records all those sappy songs.

Just then, Aileen joined them in the living room. "Well, I see you two are getting acquainted." The glimmer in her brown eyes bothered her estranged husband, but he wasn't sure why.

"Gregory, let me take your jacket. Sit, make yourself comfortable. Ill go get little John." Aileen sincerely hoped the two men would get along, that tonight wouldn't be a complete and utter disaster.

House knew he couldn't tell her what he wanted to say, not with this other guy around. This might be his only chance to be alone with her tonight, so he jumped on it. "How about we get him . . . together?"

She arched an eyebrow as she smiled and said, "Okay." She knew him well enough to know he expected an explanation. She should have told him why she had invited him over in the first place, but telling him over the phone just didn't seem right. And then Michael had come over, which complicated things.

As if things between them weren't complicated enough.

In the semi-privacy of the hallway, House leaned against a wall with an expression that said "tell me."

She closed her eyes lightly and took a breath before speaking. "Yes, Gregory, that's really him. I had been at one of his concerts, and we got to talking, and . . ." She shot him a weak smile.

"Are you two _dating_?" He knew he wouldn't like the answer.

"We, um, we've been spending time together, yes, but I wouldn't call it dating, exactly." She turned to go into her son's room before House could see the little grin that tugged at the corners of her mouth. House feared he'd waited too long. He might have missed his chance for happiness. "Hey! There's my boy!" But they were still a family. At least he had that much claim.

From her arms, their four-year-old son reached for his father. She had said she wouldn't call the time she spent with Michael _dating_. Maybe, just maybe, he still stood half a chance with her. "Layla," he began by calling her the name only he called her. "There's . . . I think we should talk. Maybe tonight's not the best time for it, but -" He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He'd wanted this - _her _- since the day she'd told him she was pregnant. He had the whole thing worked out in his head, but now that the moment had actually arrived, he hesitated. What if she didn't feel the same way? What if she was tired of him and everything he'd put her through before? What if -

All the "what ifs" in the world wouldn't get him an answer if he didn't speak.

Little Johnny was nestled comfortably in his arms. If only his team could see him now!

On second thought, it was better that they didn't see him like this. Or hear about it. Ever.

"But what, Gregory?" she asked patiently. On the surface, she looked perfectly calm and collected. Inside, her mind was racing and in turmoil. She hoped he wasn't about to ask for a divorce. But the only reason she could think of for him wanting a divorce was if he'd met someone else he wanted to marry.

And she still held on to the desperate hope that they could be a family again one day.

* * *

_A/N: Michael Williams is a character I created solely for this story. Any resemblance to actual singers/musicians is purely intentional. ;-)_


	3. Chapter 3

_I really appreciate the reviews! :-)_

She still held on to the desperate hope that they could be a family again one day.

House took another deep breath to steady himself, then sighed. Johnny was peacefully resting his head on House's shoulder. "Layla, you are -"

Michael knocked rather sharply on the doorframe, cutting him off before he could even begin. He had that same strange smile plastered on his face again. "Aileen, I just got a call from my producer. I'm needed back at the studio. I'll give you a call tomorrow?" He grasped her hands and kissed her cheek. "Dr. House," he extended his hand once again, "it was a pleasure to meet you at last." He withdrew his hand when House merely looked at him blankly and remained silent.

Aileen appeared a little too calm as she walked her _friend_ to the door. House set his son down and they walked, hand in hand, back into the living room.

"All right, Gregory, just say it. You won't be interrupted this time." Her voice was flat, betraying no emotion. She wasn't even looking at him; she was still facing the door.

"Okay." He would simply have to say his piece and hope she was open to the possibility. "Layla, I . . . you are . . . We have . . . I don't know why this is so hard! You know me better than anyone else, and I can't - You called to invite me to dinner, but seeing some other guy here . . ."

Aileen sighed and shook her head. When she turned to face him, her expression was inscrutable. She looked eerily like her aunt Lilith.

"I invited you over because our son missed his father. Michael showed up, unannounced, and decided to stay; there wasn't a polite way to get him to leave," she informed him flatly.

House blinked once, twice before speaking. "You called me because Johnny missed me? No other reason?"

She tilted her head. "Well . . . That was th- I should get the rolls out of the oven." She walked briskly into the kitchen.

House's shoulders slumped. She only called him because Johnny wanted him there. What other reason would she have? He felt like a lovesick fool. He couldn't say what he wanted to tell her now.

"Gregory? You said . . . Why should telling me something be so difficult? You've always been able to tell me anything," she asked him across the counter.

He smiled sheepishly. "It wasn't all that important."

"Oh." She turned to stir the spaghetti sauce for no reason other than it gave her an excuse to turn around. _'Not all that important. He doesn't want a divorce, then. If he's met someone, it's not serious yet. Oh, don't be silly. Don't let your imagination run away with you. He came to see his son.'_ A strong hand rested on her shoulder. "Layla, I lied. But you always know when I'm lying. It's . . . When I got to your door, and that - that other guy answered . . . I . . . I thought I'd lost you. And I can't lose you. I'm not myself without you and Johnny in my life. I love you. I have always loved you. I always will." He paused to gauge her reaction, but it was impossible when he couldn't look in her eyes. Her eyes had always revealed the truth to him. "Turn around."

She shook her head. There wasn't enough air in the room. Had she really heard him correctly? Or had her loneliness finally gotten the better of her?

House gave a gentle tug to force her to face him, but she kept her eyes closed. When his fingers began caressing her face, she felt her self-control slipping away. He'd always known just how to get to her.

"Layla . . . Open your eyes. Look at me," he pleaded.

"I can't," she breathed.

"Wh- Why not?"

"B-" She was fighting a losing battle with her emotions. "Because if I . . . You make me lose control," she admitted so softly he barely heard her.

He brushed a stray tear from her cheek. At last, she did open her eyes and found herself staring into the only eyes she wanted to get lost in. Here was the man she had always loved, the only man who knew how to get under her skin, the one who had managed to break through the walls she'd built around her heart.

With one kiss, those walls came shattering down once more, and it was like the first time all over again.

Or it would have been, had it not been for their son's joyful laughter reminding them that it was time for supper.

_Finis . . . ?_


End file.
